


something more

by hope27



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2018-02-04 17:25:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1787140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hope27/pseuds/hope27
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short drabble based on 1x09 after Felicity learns Oliver is in the hospital.</p>
            </blockquote>





	something more

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! So in between writing my post-season 2 series and my hectic work schedule, I got inspired to write this 1x09 episode after watching a fan vid. 
> 
> Here's a little throwback fic! I hope you enjoy it! Thanks to anthfan to looking it over for me.
> 
> Please let me know what to what you think! I love to read your thoughts and comments! Thanks so much for all your support!

She paced the hallway for a long time, wringing her hands as she went over what she could say - what excuse - she could make if he looked at her like she’d grown a second head for showing up in his hospital room.

After all, she’d only talked to him a handful of times; helped him even with the ridiculous lies he kept feeding her. She knew there was more to his story; more to the man behind the broken smile and sad eyes. He had a look about him that hinted to the darkness he’d gone through - the terrors he’d seen. But behind that there was light; she could see it but she didn’t think he could and for some reason it had become important to her to help him see that light. 

For whatever reason, Oliver Queen had become someone she wanted to know better.

He wasn’t the person he’d been before those five years. She had seen the playboy images of him, read the articles leading up to his disappearance and then after his rescue. He tried to put on that front but she could see through the facade. There was too much gravity and hardness to be the carefree playboy of old. His soul was weary and hurting and something in her ached to reach out and try to fix him.

It was dangerous. She knew it. Her mind warned her away, but her heart was louder. Something in him reached out to something in her and she couldn’t walk away. Everytime he came to her with a question or challenge, she felt that part of her that had been aching for a purpose grasp on to it as if this was a chance she shouldn’t turn down.

When she’d heard on the news that Oliver Queen had been in a motorcycle accident, a sudden and desperate vice had gripped her heart. The reaction surprised her, and she’d spent a half an hour staring at her phone wondering if she should call Walter until she finally did. When he’d been suddenly disconnected, she’d been concerned but knew signals could be lost in elevators and tried to tell herself that he was probably busy. 

After another ten minutes, she’d quickly hacked into the hospital records and, upon reading through Oliver’s chart, even with her limited knowledge of medicine, she knew his injuries didn’t add up to the reported incident.

She’d sat in her car in the parking garage for 30 minutes before she’d worked up the nerve to get out and snuck onto the floor with a large group coming to visit another patient.

But now that she was ten feet from his door, she realized she had no reason or purpose for being there. His family was probably in there with him and they would look at her for the person she was - a complete stranger. 

Worse yet, he might look at her as if she were a complete stranger. An ache radiated from her chest at that thought, but she shook it away.

When the door to his room opened, she stepped back into a doorway and watched as two people that she recognized as his mother and sister shuffled out into the hall. Ducking her head, she stared at the phone in her hands, pretending to be engrossed in it.

It wasn’t until they had rounded the corner that she let out a soft sigh. When she looked up, she let out a squeak of surprise at seeing Oliver’s bodyguard standing in front of her, an eyebrow raised in silent question.

Her mouth opened and then shut which only seemed to make his eyes twinkle more as if he was enjoying her obvious speechlessness. Granted, he’d been privy to a few of her more interesting rambles and verbal gaffes so he knew her penchant for talking.

Without a word, he motioned for her to follow him with a nod of his head and, after a beat, she did, brushing past him as he held open the door to Oliver’s room.

Once the door was shut behind them, her eyes flew to the bed and the breath caught in her throat at the sight of Oliver lying motionless on the sterile cotton sheets. Cuts and abrasions littered over his brow and jaw. A mottled bruise peaked out from the edge of his hospital gown, purplish-red in color and looking far worse than anything she’d ever seen. 

She must have made a noise because Mr. Diggle spoke then. “He’ll be okay. He’s going to have to take it easy for awhile, but he’ll survive.”

Letting out a ragged breath, she nodded, clasping her hands in front of her.

“That’s...that’s good,” she whispered, looking up at the tall man who had positioned himself at Oliver’s bedside. 

“I’m not sure why I’m here,” she blurted out. “I mean, I know I came here because I heard he was here, but I’m not sure what I needed to come...it’s not like I know him. Not really. He’s come to me with ridiculous things that he needs - that stupid smile and lies that anyone could see through a mile away but...but there’s something…” she turned her head from looking at Mr. Diggle to Oliver and back again, reaching up to straighten her glasses. “I trust him…”

The man said nothing, simply regarding her with a look that softened over time, eventually turning into a knowing smile. 

“He trusts you too.”

They were simple words that gave nothing away but they released the vice-like grip around her heart.

Her eyes fell back to Oliver, sweeping over his face - the sharp angles and defined features. He looked almost peaceful asleep, minus the bruises. His shoulders were relaxed and the constant guard he seemed to have up was lowered. 

Once again, she couldn't’ help but wonder what secrets and burdens he was carrying around with him on those broad shoulders.

She was moving closer to his bedside before she realized it. 

Her gaze trailed to his hand, lying by his side and she briefly wondered what it would be like to feel his skin against hers; be held with those strong, calloused fingers, that she somehow knew could be as gentle as they could be rough.

When she looked back at his face, she gasped. Blue eyes stared up at her with confusion which quickly turned to surprise and then wonder.

“Felicity…” His voice was rough with disuse but it washed over her in warm tones that she felt to her very toes.

It all tumbled out then. “I know...I have no right to be here. I don’t even really know why I’m here except that I heard that you were hurt and I got in my car and drove. I should probably go - I mean, it’s not like we really know each other but I just...I hope you get better soon. After all, what would I do in my spare time if I didn’t have all your crazy side projects.”

Her laugh came out higher than she would have liked, but the twitch of his lips allowed some of the nervousness to melt away.

A flash of pain clouded his eyes, his face twisting into muted agony when he tried to push himself into a sitting position.

“How you are even moving with a collapsed lung and three broken ribs is amazing, not to mention the major contusions to your entire body as if you and the truck went one-on-one for a few rounds in a boxing ring,” Felicity blurted out and when Oliver’s eyes flew to hers, confusion and then awe washing over him at the realization that she’d accessed his records. 

It wasn’t until she recalled what she’d just said that she blushed, and then shrugged with a shy smile. “It’s why you came to me, right?”

Oliver’s lips twitched upward, a huff of laughter leaving his lips before he thought better about it and winced at the movement it caused.

Mr. Diggle was next to him in an instant, a hand braced at his back. 

Her hand fell to his arm instinctively, wanting to help - hating to see him in such pain.

Even with her limited medical knowledge, she knew he had more than one busted rib. 

When he didn't’ lift his head after Mr. Diggle stepped away, she followed his gaze to where her hand rested on his forearm, his skin hot beneath her fingers.

With a startled sound, she moved her hand away, mentally chastising herself. But before her hand could return to her side, he’d found it and wrapped his larger one around hers. Warmth immediately flooded through her from her fingers to her toes. She stared at the joined hands for a moment, something stirring deep within her before she lifted her eyes to find his.

“Thank you,” he murmured throatily, eyes holding an honesty that startled her.

Taking a deep breath that expelled the rest of her doubts from her chest, she nodded, lifting her lips into a smile.

A smile he mirrored with one of his own; a sight that quickly become one of her favorites.

There was more to this man than met the eye and she yearned to glimpse more of that light that shone from within.


End file.
